


Oasis

by NikkiCross



Category: Naruto
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Timelines, BAMF Uzumaki Kushina, Boys Will Be Boys, Chaos, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Fuinjutsu is complex, I've fallen (in love) and I can't get up, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Minato centric, Minato is a dork, Minor Character Death, Now beta'd, POV Alternating, Poor Life Choices, Rare Pairings, Self-Acceptance, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Smitten Minato, Sorry Not Sorry, Team Minato - Freeform, The Author Regrets Nothing, Time Travel, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Visions in dreams, kakashi centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 01:23:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13800405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikkiCross/pseuds/NikkiCross
Summary: In his dreams, a young Hatake Kakashi hears a familiar voice calling out for help. Unable to sleep, the young Jounin takes to wandering the streets in the dead of night. Unnerved by the inability to understand the voice, Kakashi takes to his deceased sensei's notes on sealing. Could he... communicate with this voice, maybe?In his dreams, a young Namikaze Minato sees a dashing ninja, startlingly reminiscent of his Chunin charge Kakashi drowning in darkness. Yell and cry as he might, his words never seem to reach the man. As he watches the shinobi slowly succumb to the cold shadow, Minato races to devise a seal to allow him to communicate with the mysterious man. Can he... save his life, maybe?Time travel fic. Work-in-progress. Male x Male, possibly other relationships too. Kakashi and Minato centric





	Oasis

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so this is my first time uploading to AO3. I just want to see what it's like, because overall I love their structure a hell of a lot more that Fanfiction.net. This is a big work-in-progress, so I don't really have that big of a plan for it at this point. If you would like to beta read (please I really would appreciate it) and/or discuss ideas with me, let me know! Also, FANART is encouraged (share it with me on Tumblr! It's nikkicross22) and I love reviews! To all you Minato/Kushina fans out there, I'm sorry! I really want to try this pairing, because I honestly love the concept. If there are any others you want to see, let me know and I'll see what I can do. Please no flames guys! Thank you!  
> ~Nikki

# Oasis

_1: Waking Nightmare_

_Konoha, 6 years after Kyuubi incident_

_H..l.p_

_He…m…_

_I..d..n..w…t..d…e_

HELP ME!

 

With a choked cry, Hatake Kakashi shot bolt upright in the middle of his tangled sheets, pained gasps for air ripping from his body. The 20 year old Jonin clasped a hand over his racing heart as he tried to get ahold of himself. Shakily, he glanced around his Spartan bedroom while pulling his mask down to escape the strangled feeling in his lungs. With a rush of fresh air, the man felt himself starting to calm considerably, the panic quickly fading and being replaced with a dense felling of unease. Kakashi felt it curl through him, settling somewhere near the pit of his stomach. Willing himself not to vomit, the Copy-nin swung his legs over the edge of his bed and stood unsteadily.

Kakashi made his way towards his bathroom located directly across the hall. Moonlight crept in the single window, its mere presence giving away the early hour. As he splashed water across his face, the Jonin caught his own dull gray eye in the mirror, observing how many sleepless nights were starting to take a toll on his physical appearance. Dark eye bags and a certain tense look on his bare face greeted him, and Kakashi quickly felt his unease rise. It gave too much away, his face.

He snapped out of his self-held staring contest as a gentle pressure on his wrist made itself known and he glanced down, seeing nothing. Sighing, the Jonin turned and walked toward the towels hanging limply behind him. As he dried his face, Kakashi reflected on what had just occurred.

“The same nightmare…” he muttered. “I could hear more this time, though, real words.”

The shinobi pulled his mask back up and located his hiate-ate. Covering his most precious possession and slipping on some standard shinobi gear, he quietly slipped out the bedroom window to wander for the rest of the night. Sleep was impossible now, he knew, and there was no point in sitting in his room doing nothing for the rest of the night. When morning came, he would look to see if he could find any solo missions within Anbu to distract him, but for now, wandering made itself known as the best option.

It was pitch black outside of his building, streetlamps deemed unnecessary for a shinobi exclusive complex. It gave a great view of the night sky, however. Kakashi traced the various constellations he could make out in the starlit sky before glancing toward his silent companion. The moon confirmed it was only about three, nowhere near the standard six o’clock opening time for mission rosters. He would have to head back to his apartment to change into his uniform before he departed, too. A lapse in judgment, it seemed. Damn.

A small breeze stirred from a cloudless sky as the Jonin picked a direction to walk in. The Yondaime’s head wanted some company tonight, it seemed. Kakashi picked his way down familiar silent streets, his sandals making no noise, even on the fine gravel of the trail to the top of the monument. As he approached the top, the Jonin sensed a chakra signature rushing toward the gates of Konoha. He knew the signature by heart, as he was prone to vacating the area whenever he sensed it…

“It’s not even dawn yet, Gai,” Kakashi muttered. “Can’t training wait until at the very least beyond witching hour?”

Shaking his head, the shinobi settled comfortably in between two of his late sensei’s spikes of hair and sighed. That voice he kept hearing… it was so damn familiar. He knew he recognized it from somewhere, but at this point, the Jonin couldn’t recall what it sounded like when he was awake; the man just knew that he knew… God this was frustrating! Throwing his hands up violently Kakashi grabbed fistfuls of his gravity defying hair and tugged his face towards his knees. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream, cry or laugh hysterically, but he could feel some sort of noise building up in his chest that wanted to burst free so desperately it was almost painful.

Months. These dreams had been happening for months, and while he was glad for the break of re-watching ~~Rin~~ countless faces fall under his chidori, this wasn’t what he wanted. In these dreams, everything was black, darker than anything Kakashi could remember, and it chilled him to the soul. He was aware of it, though. Kakashi wasn’t unconscious or unaware in theses dreams, but rather the contrary. He was always fully focused on the looming shadow hanging around him, and it had been like that for about three months. One night though, it had changed.

* * *

 

He was back in this all-consuming darkness again… Kakashi didn’t like it, that was for sure. It was too quiet, too black, too… _wrong._ He always felt paralyzed; aware of his limbs but unable to move them. That made him feel helpless, and he _hated_ that. This inability to protect not only himself but his comrades from danger ate persistently at him, gnawing with a fierce accuracy directly over his heart. That’s when he heard it, a tiny sound so faint Kakashi wasn’t even sure it was actually there. Listening as hard as he could, this time he was certain he heard something. It was too quiet to make anything out, but it was there, and that was what counted. Upon hearing the sound, he felt like massive weights had been lifted from each of his limbs, allowing not only feeling, but motion. He still couldn’t see anything, but he was moving and breathing normally, which was more than he could claim for the last several months. Maybe… maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

* * *

 

Kakashi reflected on the months after that. Some days the noise would be slightly stronger, but most days it was mute. He maintained his mobility, but never was able to see. It was always black when he dreamt, and at this point the shinobi wasn’t even sure if it could be called a color. It was dark, darker than any color could ever express.  As time progressed, the sound got stronger and stronger until Kakashi could actually tell that it was, in fact, a voice. That’s when things started to get frustrating. The Copy-nin not only knew it was a voice, but he could tell with absolute certainty that he recognized this voice.

He was getting woken up near constantly by this dream and he had finally become disturbed enough to talk to the Sandaime, who honestly couldn’t have been any less help. That was a conversation he remembered with absolute certainty, the humiliation of having to go to someone for help coupled with the fact that he had been treated like a toddler drinking too much water before bed.

* * *

 

“What did you need to discuss with me, Kakashi-kun?” asked the old, wizened voice of the Hokage.

Nervously, the mentioned shinobi shifted his weight from left to right, betraying his unease to the man sitting in front of him.

“I just… I’ve been having these dreams lately, and they’re not normal. For me anyway,” Kakashi finished in a mumble.

The office he was currently standing was lit by the bright sunlight streaming through a large window and Kakashi’s sensitive nose could make out several smells in the room. Faintly, he could pick up a whiff of tobacco, ink, and sake, even through his mask. It was a warm day, one in the middle of June. The 22nd, he remembered.

“Have you mentioned these dreams to anyone else?” The Sandaime asked with a serious expression on his face. “A Yamanaka, perhaps?”

Uncomfortable, Kakashi’s weight shifted from right to left. “Well, no, Hokage-sama. I don’t want anyone poking around in my head, and I knew if I mentioned it to someone from the clan that would be the only thing they would suggest.”

The Hokage sighed. “Kakashi-kun, have you considered taking a break from the corps for a while? When was the last time you took a break?”

Left to right. “About five years ago now, sir.”

The Sarutobi’s eyes darkened a little. “Maybe you should consider-“

“I don’t mean to be insubordinate, Hokage-sama,” Center, now. “but I do not believe my frequency of missions has anything to do with this. If anything my missions have slowed down considerably since I have started to work alone.”

Sighing even deeper this time, Hiruzen attempted to meet Kakashi’s gaze, even as it was situated somewhere near the bottom of his desk. “I can’t do anything for you, unfortunately. The easiest way for us to understand what is happening would be to evaluate your memories, and maybe even have a Yamanaka dream walk with you. Because you are so adamant about keeping people away from your head, however, the only thing I could recommend would be using seals.”

Kakashi’s single visible eye widened considerably at this new knowledge. “There’s a seal for that?”

“One, yes,” The Hokage agreed. “I am aware of a seal that the Yondaime created for this very same reason.”

“Minato-sensei?” Kakashi asked, shocked.

The Hokage nodded. “Minato-kun, yes. He also had several confusing dreams he wanted to take charge of, I understand. If I remember correctly, it is a seal placed anywhere on the skin to allow the user full control of his or her dreams.”

“What is it?” the Jonin asked, his eyes snapping up as a feeling desperation permeated his thoughts.

Hiruzen turned to look out of his window at the bright day. “Unfortunately, I do not know. Jiraya-kun, being Minato-kun’s sensei, is the only one still alive that might have any knowledge beyond what I have. However, as you very well know, he is currently nowhere near the village.”

“So, you can’t help me, then?” Kakashi asked, feeling anticipation drain out of him as his shoulders slumped minutely and his eyes drifted back towards the ground.

“No, I am afraid I can’t, Kakashi-kun,” the Hokage said apologetically.

The Copy-nin felt a strong wash of hopelessness envelope him once again. He couldn’t even find the strength of will to glance up from the floor to face his Hokage. Once again, Kakashi was left without an answer, nothing he could do for himself.

“Kakashi-kun,” the Hokage started. “I really do believe you need to take a break from the corps. Anbu is obviously taking a toll on you, and you’re still young. At this rate, the only thing that is going to come from this is your failure in missions, and potentially your death.”

Kakashi felt irritation starting to swirl through his body again, and his stance tensed once again. He forced himself to keep a tight rein on the Killer Intent that wanted to leak from his body. Threatening the Hokage was _not_ something he wanted to be known for.

_Not that I’m much of a threat to someone like him,_ Kakashi thought bitterly.

“Kakashi,” the Sandaime intoned, both his intent and his lack of a ‘kun’ on the end immediately wrenching the mentioned shinobi’s attention solely on the Hokage. “You have the week off. Take a while to consider your health. I am not one to throw my peoples’ lives around carelessly.”

Kakashi could feel the Hokage’s eyes bearing into his, and he fought not to glare back.

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” he snapped.

Hiruzen sighed deeply and broke the tense moment. “You are dismissed.”

With those words, Kakashi used a Shunshin to quickly escape the suffocating office, leaving behind a very concerned leader.

* * *

 

Seals. He wasn’t great at them, admittedly, but thanks to having a seal master as a sensei, Kakashi had picked up a thing or two about how they worked over the years. If he could just _see_ the seal the Sandaime had mentioned, the Copy-nin was sure he would be able to figure it out. He didn’t necessarily need Jiraya here, honestly. That was just a precaution if anything went wrong, which if Kakashi had his way, nothing would.

Suddenly, the Copy-nin’s head snapped up.

_See it,_ the shinobi thought with urgency. _If I could find that seal and copy it with my Sharingan, I could replicate it easily._

The Yondaime, having died during the sealing of the Kyuubi and leaving behind an infant son, had no one to claim all of his possessions, meaning that this seal was probably stored somewhere along with hundreds of others. If Kakashi could just figure out _where,_ he could potentially understand and use this seal to its full extent, the only problem being whether or not he could actually access it. There was no way he was going to get permission for this, so finding exactly where the Sandaime had stored Minato’s things would be hard. He could be stripped of his position faster than someone could say “mistake” if he was caught as well.

Was it worth it?  

The frustrated shinobi stood slowly, and moved forward a bit, until he was hanging almost precariously over the edge. Staring directly down, the noticed the ground far below him. Kakashi had always wondered how far the drop was ( _far enough_ , a dark part of his mind whispered) but couldn’t quite bring himself to test it. He had so many options right now. The Copy-nin could always just leave it; he didn’t need to address his dreams. Most nights they were silent anyway, so did it really matter? He could also go to a Yamanaka. Inoichi was retired, and even had a daughter now. If he went to him for help Kakashi was certain there would be far less backlash than if he went to an active shinobi. The one eyed ninja could always ask Inoichi not to tell the Hokage about what he saw. Last, of course, Kakashi could go through with his outrageous plan, and face the consequences if he actually was caught. That plan had the lowest chance of succeeding, but also the best reward.

So many options… Kakashi focused on a small leaf fluttering across the ground, caught in the breeze somewhere far below him. It started to blow out of sight and he followed it slightly with his body. Leaning just a little bit further, however, he felt it. Starting the same time as the voice came into reality, when Kakashi went too far down the rabbit hole, too far into the darkest reaches of his mind, this sort of feeling started to happen. Like now, as he hung over the edge of the monument, he could feel the phantom of a human standing behind him, holding him back from teetering over the edge. Ghost limbs were wrapped around his midsection, and he could almost feel a press of warmth to his back, like a firm abdomen lending its support.

As quickly as the feeling came, however, it disappeared, taking along with it the feeling of security. Kakashi laughed somewhat bitterly to himself. Had he really become so weak that the shinobi would depend on some sort of hallucination generated by his exhausted mind? Glancing up, he saw the first reaches of dawn starting to show, just the very edge of a light blue breaking into the mostly black sky. The birds were starting to stir in their nests, ready to greet the day with joyful songs and enthusiasm. Taking a step back from the edge, Kakashi shook his head. He had decided; he was going to find this seal, and he was going to use it, that much he was confident of. Now, however, he had an Anbu mission to file for, his week of forced “relaxation” over long ago. Kakashi turned back towards his apartment, feeling a new sense of determination grip his body and replace the uneasy feeling that had been there for several hours. This voice, he was going to find it, and he was going to do whatever was necessary to stop it.

* * *

 

_Konoha, 6 years before the Kyuubi incident_

As light started to filter into his consciousness, Minato knew he was having the dream again. It had started several months ago, almost directly after the completion of his genin team, if you could call it that. Both Nohara Rin and Uchiha Obito were average Genin, freshly graduated and ready to take on the shinobi world with a sort of ironic enthusiasm. They were going to become killers, and neither one grasped the severity of the concept. Not yet. They would soon, however, as from what the Sandaime had told him, war was brewing. Minato was only 18, barely even old enough to claim maturity, and yet he had been put in charge of three impressionable, young children. They were eight years old for crying out loud! But then again he had been in charge of Kakashi from his graduation from the academy at five.

Ah yes, the third child. Hatake Kakashi was not your average ninja. He was a genius, promoted to Chunin at the young age of 6 years old and now striving for Jonin. The ambition? It was a great thing. The reason for it, though, was not. Kakashi’s father Hatake Sakumo, also called the White Fang, had committed suicide after failing a mission and condemning Konoha to political issues that would then lead to war. Minato personally considered the White Fang a hero, sacrificing the mission for the lives of his comrades, but his name was now taboo. He was used as an example of why people shouldn’t break the rules, publically shamed by the villagers. Kakashi now worshipped the rules, determined to clear the Hatake name of his father’s shame.

Kakashi also looked disturbingly similar to the man who had been appearing in his dreams recently, if only he was older and missing an eye. He felt the world around him starting to sharpen into focus, and saw the man washing his face in the bathroom sink. Judging from the lack of light, it was very early in the morning, probably around two or three. He was shaking slightly, Minato noticed, and looked like he was about two steps away from tears. Concerned, Minato took half a step forward and placed his hand lightly on top of the panicked shinobi’s wrist. The blond watched as he took a deep breath and seemed to calm a little, before turning to dry his face.

Jin Kowaku. Enchanting Silver. That was what Minato had taken to calling the mystery man. As many times as he had seen him, the blond was always deaf in his dreams and had no idea what the Kakashi look a like’s name was. He’d spoken briefly to Jiraya about these dreams and his sensei had encouraged writing them down. Calling Kowaku “the man” all the time had grown frustrating, and he had really wanted to give him a name from the beginning, so it all worked out.

Minato always felt sort of bad whenever he saw Kowaku without his mask, he obviously had one so no one could see his face, but Kami-sama did he have a nice one. Face, that is. The blond could feel some color invading his cheeks as he turned away while the silver haired shinobi dressed. He was putting on some standard shinobi clothing, including a Konoha Jonin vest, and the 18 year old man questioned again where exactly he was in these dreams. It looked sort of like Konoha; they wore the headbands, uniform, and Kowaku saw the Sandaime-sama, but chunks of the village were missing, seemingly replaced. Not only that, but the silver haired Jonin was an Anbu, so he didn’t see very many other shinobi without masks very often. It was irking, that was definitely a fact.

_Going out at this hour?_ Minato internally questioned as Kowaku stepped towards his window. _You’re not dressed for a mission, and you don’t seem very stable right now. I hope he doesn’t do something stupid. Again._

Kowaku had a habit of becoming stupidly self-sacrificial on his Anbu missions, willing to work himself to death for the sake of a distraction. The silver haired Jonin had been out of the village for a month one time, and after arriving back at two in the godforsaken morning, had tried to rise again at five to go retrieve a new mission. Minato had run his hand through soft strands of hair and gently coaxed him back to sleep at the first signs of consciousness, not willing to let his exhausted companion risk himself again so soon. Kowaku seemed much more perceptive of Minato’s touch when he was asleep.

The blond Jonin snapped out of his musing and followed his sole companion out into the streets, then glanced at the moon, confirming it was only about three in the morning. The apartment complex the man lived in was pitch black, with no light for several blocks up the road, barely distinguishable with Minato’s limited vision. It was cold, too, with a slight breeze of freezing air working its way through a cloudless sky. Concerned with Kowaku’s lack of warm clothing, Minato placed himself next the Jonin and blocked the worst of the chill from his side. Kowaku could get sick, Minato couldn’t.

As much as he valued these encounters, though, he hated the stupid hearing and sight problems. Sure, Minato could see Kowaku perfectly clearly, but anything further than maybe 10 meters was almost blurred beyond recognition, not to mention the fact that he couldn’t hear anything. He also had to stay near Kowaku at all times because his range of sight was generated by him, it seemed. Minato had been impossibly lost one time when he fell behind during an Anbu mission and the blond had been wandering aimlessly for hours until he woke up. Minato had no intention of repeating that.

Glancing at where they were headed, he noticed a familiar gravel path, headed towards the top of a small mountain. Kowaku liked to sit up here and think, Minato had learned over the past several months. He also liked miso soup with eggplant, reading, and dogs, and his ninken summons always seemed aware of his presence, even if Kowaku never was. The blond was a little embarrassed to admit that he had developed quite the attachment to the man over the course of his dreams, and Kushina mocked him for having a “crush”. He was 18 years old damnit! He didn’t get “crushes”. He just happened to really like this, tall, dashing, secretive, aloof… okay maybe she had a point. It didn’t matter though, at this point there was no way to communicate with his silver haired mystery.

He watched as his silent companion flared his chakra seeking out a close signature before deeming it safe and settling on the ground between two of the oddly shaped, rocks adopting a contemplative look.

_I guess we’re going to be here a while tonight,_ Minato thought.

The blond looked out over the view below them, able to make out several blurry lights even in the early morning. Kowaku shivered a little below him, prompting Minato to sit close to the silver haired enigma to block the wind. The young Jonin had never really minded the cold, and being this close to Kowaku was reassuring to say the least. Minato didn’t really understand it, but he had this insane urge to protect the man next to him, and it wasn’t like he didn’t need it. While outwardly his companion was very strong, emotionally and mentally he struggled. Minato had seen him wake from many nightmares only to vomit several times before making his way up here.

Kowaku slept as still as a corpse, but always tense, just as any good shinobi should. It was because of the stillness of his body that Minato could tell when he was having nightmares, as he was prone to thrashing around and whimpering while in the midst of one. The blond tried to help, but could count the amount of times he had been successful on one hand. Hell, he still remembered the first time with perfect clarity, and he should. That was the only time he had ever heard _anything_ while being in Kowaku’s presence. 

* * *

 

Minato was bored. Kowaku had been asleep for around three hours now and there was only so much one could do when the only thing he could really interact with was passed out and sleeping peacefully. Sighing for what seemed like the millionth time, the blond got up and walked around to the bed curious if maybe Kowaku talked in his sleep when he was well and truly out. He had just returned from a mission and was much less tense than normal. From what Minato had gathered, his silver haired mystery had been out of the village for about two weeks, and that had taken quite the toll on the poor man’s body.

And boy, what a body did this man have. Minato was by no means flabby; no Jonin could be if they valued their life. Even the Akimichi, known for their weight, were primarily hard packed muscle. But Kowaku took fit to a whole new level, what, with his near washboard abdominals and his perfectly sculpted arms and legs. Not that the blond was looking or anything, but he needed _something_ to strive for. For himself! A goal to get his body to, that’s what he meant. (Right?)

Shaking himself clean of his thoughts, the blond covered the rest of the distance to the bed. Now close to his face, Minato indeed saw a little motion, a slight twitch in the corner if the eye that was normally covered up. Honestly, he had no idea what was actually there. He assumed it was another eye but he couldn’t be certain, as whenever Kowaku opened it the small area around the eye became entirely blurry. It was just another piece of the puzzle that was this man. He was fascinating, really.

Kowaku’s entire face started to twitch now, along with the fingers in his hand, before he became entirely still. Immediately, a sense of foreboding filled Minato, and it was not misplaced, because not a second later Kowaku began to thrash about wildly.

“Kowaku!” Minato cried, desperately shaking his shoulders, trying fruitlessly to wake him up.

“Kowaku, damnit! Wake up! Come on!” the blond raised a hand and brought it down harshly, resulting in a resounding _‘Crack!’_ as he slapped the man’s face.

Kowaku sat bolt upright at the strike, eyes flinging open, staring unseeingly at the room in front of him, his shoulders heaving with rushed pants and tears leaking out of the left eye Minato couldn’t see. He looked terrified, lost, and alone, so without thinking, the blond reached out and cupped the man’s face from the side, slowly turning his head and drawing him closer. Just as he drew him to his chest, it was like the world clicked for a second. Minato could see everything around him with crystal clarity, feel Kowaku’s heartbeat and warmth, and most importantly, _hear._ He could _hear Kowaku’s breathing._

A moment passed, and then another, before Minato heard the voice of the man he had grown so attached to so quickly, for the first time. It was barely a breath of air, almost so faint he couldn’t hear it, let alone make it out. Almost. Time seemed to freeze for a precious second, before one word, and only one was said aloud.

 “ _Minato…”_

* * *

 

Kowaku had fallen back asleep on his chest, the blond had remembered, but the sense of warmth still hadn’t left him, even after two months since the encounter. It seemed the silver haired ninja had forgotten, but Minato could still very clearly recall the faint smell of sandalwood and dog on Kowaku, even after he had showered. It was a nice smell, reminding him of home and security, and he had spent days trying to find a smell that resembled it. (If Minato had gone to the store the next day and bought the same kind of shampoo he noticed Kowaku using, that was entirely coincidental.)

The mentioned ninja suddenly stirred next to Minato, who noticed a frustrated and perplexed look on his face. With an odd sort of mechanical motion, the silver haired Jonin rose to his feet and walked towards the very edge of the cliff, and once again a feeling of disturbance filled the blond. He wasn’t going to hurt himself, was he? No, Minato was just reading too far into things.

He watched as Kowaku tracked something moving at the bottom of the cliff with his head, before taking a slight bit more of a step forward, directly over the edge.

“No!” Minato cried throwing himself forward and wrapping his arms firmly around the Jonin’s midsection.

“You are not allowed to throw yourself off, do you hear me!? You may not know it, but I’m right here,” Minato pressed himself to Kowaku’s back, willing him to feel his presence.

Minato was deeply disturbed in that moment, panic and desperation permeating his thoughts. Kowaku had grown to be important to the blond, one of the very few he allowed into his heart. Just the thought of him hurting himself, or worse… It chilled Minato to the very bone, seeming to seep directly into his very soul. No. He wouldn’t allow it.

“Come on, Kowaku,” Minato whispered. “I’m right here.”

And with that, Minato was violently wrenched out of his dream by an explosive chakra signature ripping his soul back to his body.   


End file.
